An Inca Spear

Here I might most appropriately insert a paragraph on the
vanity of human wishes and endeavor. But events, they say, speak
for themselves; and still, for my own part, I prefer the
philosopher to the historian. Mental digestion is a wearisome
task; you are welcome to it.

To the story. As I have said, we missed the wall of the
tunnel by a scant ten feet, and we kept on missing it. Once under
the arch, our raft developed a most stubborn inclination to bump up
against the rocky banks instead of staying properly in the middle
of the current, as it should.

First to one side, then to the other, it swung, while Harry
and I kept it off with our oars, often missing a collision by
inches. But at least the banks were smooth and level, and as long
as the stream itself remained clear of obstruction there was but
little real danger.

The current was not nearly so swift as I had expected it would
be. In the semidarkness it was difficult to calculate our rate of
speed, but I judged that we were moving at about six or seven miles
an hour.

We had gone perhaps three miles when we came to a sharp bend
in the stream, to the left, almost at a right angle. Harry, at the
bow, was supposed to be on the lookout, but he failed to see it
until we were already caught in its whirl.

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Then he gave a cry of alarm, and together we swung the raft to
the left, avoiding the right bank of the curve by less than a foot.
Once safely past, I sent Harry to the stern and took the bow
myself, which brought down upon him a deal of keen banter from
Desiree.

There the tunnel widened, and the raft began to glide easily
onward, without any of its sudden dashes to right or left. I
rested on my oar, gazing intently ahead; at the best I could make
out the walls a hundred yards ahead, and but dimly. All was
silence, save the gentle swish of the water against the sides of
the raft and the patter of Harry's oar dipping idly on one side or
the other.

Suddenly Desiree's voice came through the silence, soft
and very low:

"Pendant une anne' toute entiere,

Le regiment na Pas r'paru.

Au Ministere de la Guerre

On le r'porta comme perdu.

"On se r'noncait a r'trouver sa trace,

Quand un matin subitement,

On le vit r'paraitre sur la place,

L'Colonel toujours en avant."

I waited until the last note had died away in the darkness.

"Are those your thoughts?" I asked then, half turning.

"No," said Desiree, "but I want to kill my thoughts. As for
them--"

She hesitated, and after a short pause her voice again broke
into melody: